“Haven’t got time!” sneered one of the three rascals. “See you later!” Suddenly the boat in front swerved off to one side. But Tom was ready for this and shifted his own wheel to intercept the other craft. “Look out! Rocks!” suddenly cried Mr. Damon. CHAPTER VIII TWO CAPTIVES “WHAT’S that? What’s the matter?” cried Tom Swift, hearing Mr. Damon’s shout. “Are they going to ram us?” Tom had been bending over the gasoline throttle in an endeavor to coax a little more speed out of their craft. Now he looked up to see that they were very near the fleeing boat. “No, I said rocks ahead! Look! Bless my life preserver, we’re going to hit them!” yelled the eccentric man. “Look out!” Then, but too late, Tom saw and realized why the other boat had swerved so suddenly. It was to avoid the rocks. And now the _Gull_, which was the name of the boat Tom had hired, was headed directly for the black, sharp rocks that reared their ugly heads out of the blue water of Lake Carlopa. “Hand me that boat hook and maybe I can fend us off,” called out the tramp. Tom, however, was sure this would be of no service, so he did not obey the request. He was trying with all his might to pull the wheel around far enough to steer the _Gull_ away from the rocks. But the craft was a heavy one, rather clumsy, and did not respond readily. “See if she’ll reverse, Mr. Damon!” panted Tom, who had to use both hands on the wheel. “Throw that lever back!” and he pointed to one with his foot. “Yes, I know how!” Mr. Damon replied. He grasped the gear lever and began straining on it. Suddenly there was a sharp report. “Did it break?” cried Tom, looking at the rocks on to which they seemed about to crash. “No. They’re shooting at us!” yelled Bill Tagg. “There they go again!” he added, ducking down into the bottom of the boat. Tom and Mr. Damon were both occupied with trying to save the _Gull_ from going on the rocks and they could not draw their weapons. The tramp, however, aimed his automatic and sent a couple of answering shots toward the boat containing Ned. “Look out you don’t hit our friend,” warned Tom, who felt the rudder gradually coming around, so that he had hopes of saving the _Gull_ from a direct crash. “I fired over their heads,” explained Bill Tagg. “They’re doing the same, I guess—trying to bluff us!” He fired again, high enough to clear those in the fleeing craft, and again came a response. This time the bullet was lower and Tom instinctively ducked, though he knew the missile must have passed him before his ear caught the vicious whine of its passage through the air. Then, so suddenly that no warning was given, the _Gull_ struck on a rock just beneath the surface. It was a glancing blow, and the rock, luckily, was smooth, or the craft might have been shattered. As it was, the _Gull_ careened to one side, and so sharply that Tom Swift was thrown overboard, landing in the lake with a great splash.